


Blood and Spice

by NorthSol



Series: Bleidd y Cerbin [2]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, going to kaer Morhen, stopping by velen, the crones, travelling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-12 23:00:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11746983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NorthSol/pseuds/NorthSol
Summary: Geralt and Regis set out from their home in Toussaint, about to make their way to Kaer Morhen. Gut feeling drives Geralt to take a detour through Velen to visit Novigrad. A detour that proves more troublesome than either expected, should have gone through Vengerberg.





	Blood and Spice

**Author's Note:**

> Finally here we go, part 1 of the sequel to Peace and Trouble. I hope you will enjoy this, I had a lit of fun writing it!

Geralt and Regis left the sunny slopes of Toussaint in the late summer time, with long promises from Barnabas-Basil of keeping Corvo Bianco safe and in good shape for their return. Geralt promised his majordomo he would write him once in a while, perhaps when they finally reached Kaer Morhen. They rode their horses at a leisurely pace, for there was no rush, and Geralt couldn’t truly hide the thrill he felt at being back on the road. The thrill was just made bigger with Regis riding his chosen steed beside his Roach. 

They would head towards Riedbrune first, but had decided to try and avoid the main road as much as possible if only to avoid the trickle of people. With the war won and settled a good four years past, people were finally beginning to move, Nilfgaardians mostly coming north to try their hand at civilizing the rugged North.  
It did not exactly help that certain officers stationed along the road still enjoyed terrorizing those classified as Nordlings. Geralt knew Temerian leaders were working hard to usher all Nilfgaard military away from their borders, arguing that the treaty had long since been signed and it was time for them to show a little trust in the new vassal state.

It was usually Regis who kept up with the current situations of the world, Geralt felt he couldn’t care less. He had been too close to political plays four times too many. The vampire claimed it was healthy to know the lay of the land as it were, and sure there were merit in those words. But all he could really think of was all the times things of dubious political origin had taken a chunk out of his arse.  
He had to stop using that expression though, as Regis would always sneakily get his hands on said arse, squeeze and say that it felt like the entire arse was there. Geralt flushed at the memory and shook his head gently to himself.  
Regis was a few paces ahead of him, his entire body language spelling that of someone carefree and content. He glanced back at Geralt and gave the witcher a small smile, which Geralt returned easily. 

They would reach the outskirts of Belhaven today if all went well, perhaps further if the horses weren’t too tired when darkness would start to fall. It didn’t much matter to him anyway, he was in no rush and he wanted to savor every mile on the road with his vampire. 

They continued this leisurely pace for the next days, travelling up to the Yaruga before starting heading west alongside it. Regis had put down a quiet suggestion of perhaps they could stop by Dillingen? It was a detour but…  
Geralt had posed no objections and gladly traveled that way with him, they could travel up to Temeria that was, and then perhaps up to Novigrad to see Dandelion and Zoltan as well. This wasn’t a death march after all. Regis had smiled, leant over to him and given him a brief kiss that still made Geralt’s heart soar.  
It was easy travelling together, and although Geralt had always enjoyed being on the road, he was always tense and at the ready. With Regis near he felt more relaxed, and perhaps a little strangely, more alive than he had ever before felt. Maybe it was something as simple as the thrill of travelling with someone he loved, and who loved him in return, sharing the adventures the road offered them. 

They felt no need to seek out inns so long the weather was alright and they could find a soft groove to rest in, usually with Geralt placing his head on Regis lap as the vampire sat up against a tree. Sharp nails would scratch gently or just thread gently through his hair, lulling him to restful sleep. When morning came he would be awoken by soft touches or a light kiss. 

If things got better than this he would probably burst from joy, the witcher mused quietly to himself as he shared bread rolls and jam with the vampire who lamented the fact that Marlene’s goods were soon run out. They would have to make do with usual fare, Geralt joked, and had to laugh at the utterly sullen look Regis mustered to send him at that. 

They had finally reached Cintra went the heavens cracked open and released the flood, almost literally. They hurried to seek shelter in a cave that was thankfully free from beasts and monsters. His leather armor felt heavy and like it was going to chafe any minute, so he started on unbuckling himself and removing it while Regis got a nice fire going with various broken branches and other dry material in the cave.  
Outside thunder started rolling, just barely audible over the rain that hammered the earth outside. 

“Huh, let’s just hope nothing starts dripping in here, I’m already wet enough,” Geralt groaned as he pulled his soaked linen shirt off with some difficulty. Even though it was summer, the storm caused chilled winds to stray over the land, making the witcher shiver gently. 

“Mm, seems that bath in the river was almost unnecessary,” the vampire mused, mirth lacing his voice.  
“Well, at least we don’t smell like drowned dogs even though we look the part,” Geralt scoffed as he hang up his wet clothes on protruding rock formations.

“Nothing about you look like a dog, Geralt,” the vampire came up behind him and put his arms around him. 

“Heh, you know you should get rid of your wet clothes too,” the witcher pointed out.

“I don’t feel cold though,” Regis lowered his head to Geralt’s shoulder.

“Hm, but I do, and you are so good at warming me up,” he brought his hands up to Regis’ arms, fingers dancing lightly over them before he turned to face the smiling vampire who quickly began to divest himself of his clothes.  
They met again in warming kisses, familiar touches against hundred times already explored expanses of skin. Geralt could never tire of this though, no matter how many times it happened. Regis’ touches sent fire through him while uncontrollable shivers wracked his body into malleable putty in the vampire’s hands. 

A quiet chuckle morphed into a gasp as the witcher used his teeth down Regis’ neck, and still he could feel Regis smirk against him as his hands went lower. He was gripped tightly before Regis lifted him up effortlessly to Geralt’s very pleased gasp. 

He clung to Regis’ shoulders, legs locked behind the small of his back as Regis held him up. Their lips locking into heated kisses and labored breath. Geralt did his best to rub up against the other male, but without much momentum it was rather hard, and the vampire was definitely teasing him if the chuckle at Geralt’s pained groaned was anything to go by. 

“Stop teasing,” the witcher grunted as he tightened his legs around him.

“But dear Geralt, you make the best noises when you are teased a little, tantalized.” The vampire let his lips slide up the other’s neck, nipping ever so gently just under Geralt’s jaw, delighting in the gasp he was rewarded with.  
The witcher scoffed and bit into Regis’ neck in retaliation, the sudden press of stone against his back should probably have discomforted him more… but he was way too distracted by Regis ridding them of their last articles of clothes to care.

The thundering rain and howling winds outside the cave drown most of the moans and screams of intense carnal pleasure. Though the occupants of said cave would probably not have cared if a whole village became privy to their current acts of passion, too busy with one another.  
Geralt moaned freely as Regis moved within him, slicked by the oil Regis had begun fashioning for them during the last few months. He wouldn’t have been able to keep his mouth shut even if he wanted to, the delightful drag of Regis within him always made his head swim and his gut clench as pleasure wrecked him thoroughly. Sharp teeth nibbled gently under his jaw, accompanied by warm breaths from Regis panting against him. He moaned deeply, voice becoming rugged.

Just the fact that the vampire was holding him up with arms alone made Geralt flush in a manner most pleasing to the older man, he knew Geralt enjoyed the occasional show of power. And feeling the witcher’s thighs trembling at his sides as his legs locked behind his back was truly a treat if there ever was one. He moved away slightly from the wall, carrying a moaning witcher with him who cried out as the vampire reached even deeper within him. 

“Gh… Regis…Regis…!” He gasped, his name ending in a whimper on the witcher’s lips as the vampire captured them with his own, still bouncing the other man up and down on his shaft. 

Regis knew the witcher was close, felt it in the way the other man clenched more harshly around him, saw it in how he threw his head back and groaned loudly. Their sounds echoed around the cave as they worked together towards sweet completion.  
The vampire bit through a deep groan as Geralt came untouched, twitching in his hold. It was quite the sight to behold, music to his ears, and it made it impossible to hold on much longer. He had to lean Geralt against the cave wall again as he came, less he drop the man as his mind blanked at the immense pleasure.

They panted together as Geralt slowly lowered his shaky legs back to the cavern floor. Regis smiled against him and took him by the hand, leading him to their bedrolls where they laid down after a quick clean up. Geralt let his eyes slip shut soon after placing his head on Regis’ shoulder, his breath quickly becoming deep and less controlled as he slipped into sated sleep.  
Regis curled a protective arm around him and nuzzled against his white hair, drawing in the scent of sex and Geralt. He smiled against him as he let himself into a light rest against his beloved witcher.

Geralt woke limbs all tangled up with Regis who slept beside him on the saddle covers. Gentle rays of sun did their best attempts at peeking in through the cave entrance. Roach and Drak, Regis had clearly been at it whit his secretive naming skills once more, stood close to one another and resting peacefully still.  
“Mm…weather let up,” he said, voice still rasp and gruff from all its use last night.

“Is there a rush?” Regis whispered to him as he drew even closer, the witcher closed his eyes with a small smile.

“None.”

 

The weather kept more or less on the drier side as they made their way to Dillingen. When they finally met the main road again it turned out Geralt had been right, they met several travelers who either pointedly ignored them once they spotted Geralt and his two swords, or they gave one nervous nod to the two men on horseback.

“Huh, when you said you were treated like an outcast I didn’t think it would be as if you had grown another head,” Regis murmured quietly as they passed another group that hurriedly averted their gazes.

“This is nothing though. Things will get worse further North, with Temeria being one of the bigger culprits in form of slurs and stones. Kaedwen is more relaxed I guess, although just barely and only half the population thinks as such,” the witcher snorted in reply. 

“Ah, well then I apologize Geralt. Seems you know more about being wholly different than most of the world, more so than what I initially thought and called you out on.” The vampire bowed his head in sincerity.

“It’s fine, Regis. I understand it must be a little hard to get for you, and monsters that are sentient have trouble understanding it too. For them, and to you, witchers are more or less human. But to humans we are absolutely not human.”

“Almost literally trapped in-between worlds? Because of how you look…” Regis sighed.

“I thought so, until Ciri told me she experiences much the same treatment as those mutated when she reveals she is a witcher. Seems the very word holds double meaning to many,” Geralt said as he looked over to the clearly surprised man.

“Truly?” He looked at him again as the approached the bridge that would take them across the Yaruga.

“Mhm, I had hoped it would be different for her, but as Ciri pointed out… being treated different because of your gender rarely count towards the positive when you are woman.”

“A sad and tasteless norm if I ever saw one,” Regis shook his head.  
Geralt couldn’t agree more with him.

 

They had just reached the outskirts of Dillingen and Regis was already being recognized. People stopped and waved to him, called out kind greetings and calls for him to stop by if he had time. 

“Huh, you are rather popular here I see. Now I understand why you wanted to come,” Geralt smirked at the slightly flushing vampire.

“Ah, I didn’t think I would be remembered this fondly to be honest. Though I suppose offering healing more or less for free to people will do that eventually if you give it time.” The other man nodded to himself as he spoke.  
Regis had given up his old home in Dillingen, though Geralt doubted they would be turned away from most homes here. Even so, they went to the Rum and Spice inn for a room. Geralt found the name suspicious, but Regis waved him off and promised the place was a good one. The vampire knew the owner, had helped him set the place up.

“Many of the home brews they have are actually good for you,” he chuckled as they walked through the door. 

“Though I refused to give my mandrake recipe.”

“Regis, as I live and breathe!” A stout man behind the bar bellowed as they entered, arms stretched out in glee at the sight of the gray haired man.

“Hello Otto,” Regis replied with a smile at the innkeeper. 

“Well now, I am so glad to see you again my friend! What will it be?” the big man grinned and clapped his hands together.

“Well, my companion here and I would like a room, one is fine. And we certainly wouldn’t say no to some of your rather infamous food,” Regis spoke fluently, not missing a beat or stumbling anywhere. It was probably why Otto didn’t even bat an eye at the one room is fine for two men, not even asking if he had two rooms available. 

“Of course, of course! I’ll give you one with a good view! Please go find a seat and I will get you some food, on the house my friend. My business wouldn’t be anything if it wasn’t for you!” the man laughed heartily before vanishing through a door to what Geralt assumed was the kitchen.

“Very nice,” Geralt commented as they sat down in a corner. It was only afternoon, most of the patrons would likely not arrive before early evening at least. 

“Otto is a good man, very likable,” Regis agreed. “And, this place is well kept and clean. Always a nice bonus if I may say so myself.”

“Well on that we certainly agree!” To be honest the witcher had left inns a few times more than what he would have liked because sleeping outside in the rain was less of a health and vermin risk than staying inside rooms that resembled pigsties more than a common room.

Otto the innkeeper brought them hearty stew that carried that blissful hint of red wine within, bringing out all the flavors more thoroughly. When he came by and asked if they would like seconds both men held their bowls up, which the innkeeper laughed heartily at and soon returned with more. 

They were well stuffed and almost over sated by the time the regular patrons made their way to the Rum and Spice. Near all of them greeted Regis, some even came and spoke with him. They asked how’d he had been, was he staying long? Did he perhaps have time to make his cough remedy for an ailing child or elderly?  
Regis replied to it all with patience and smiles that still hid his teeth. He promised light aid to those who asked after Geralt gave an approving nod after Regis explained it might take a few days. This kind of work and contact obviously made Regis quite happy, this was more than just a hobby, this was something the vampire was passionate about.  
It was a joy for Geralt to get to see him like this, it brought even more joy to the witcher to see his beloved treated with such respect and kindness. He more than deserved it after all. 

All the chatter started grating on his senses after a while though, with a belly overflowing with food he found himself ridiculously tired after all. He excused himself and told Regis he would retire to digest the feast they had been given. His vampire smiled at him, and it warmed to see him struggle keeping it small enough so his teeth would all show. 

Regis was right, the room was lovely and carried a pleasant spice scent. The bed linens looked and smelled fresh with a hint of citrus. Rarely was he privy to such simple luxuries.  
He undressed down to his undergarments before using the basin, complete with lukewarm water and cloth, to wash himself off as best he could. Feeling refreshed he slipped under the covers and into the soft, sweet smelling bed and groaned as the softness enveloped him. He was asleep before he knew it, though it was light whenever his vampire wasn’t next to him. It still felt good to let weary limbs weigh him down properly as he rested.  
He awoke some time later to a light kiss upon his brow. Regis had returned and was sitting on the bed next to him, the room a lot darker now as Regis had likely extinguished all candles. 

“Mm, finally return from you adoring crowd?” he was almost surprised at how much sleep rasped his voice already.

“I was invited for some glasses of wine, couldn’t rightly turn them down. But you seem to have occupied yourself nicely.” The vampire smiled and slipped under the covers with him, dressed only in a shirt.

“You were right, this room is bloody fantastic,” Geralt yawned and curled around Regis the moment the other man laid down properly next to him.

He was answered with a low chuckle. “Well, on Otto’s behalf I am pleased you are pleased.”

“Mm…since we’re staying a while, I am gonna have you on this nice bed at least once, “the witcher murmured, eyes closing and missing the flush dusting over the vampire’s features.

“Hm…I don’t think I would object,” Regis replied, voice a little shaky. 

“Not now though, sleep, good bed,” Geralt nuzzled against him and felt his body grow heavy again, he only half felt Regis shake his head above him.

“As you say Geralt, rest. Perhaps you can come and find herbs with me tomorrow?”

“Mhm…sure…” came the breathy reply from the witcher as his breath deepened, signaling sleep.  
Regis smiled to himself and wrapped his arms around his witcher and closing his own eyes trying to control his initial excitement at first so he could focus on regeneration for the night. With Geralt asleep he managed to get his thoughts under control soon enough, and the warm body next to his that wrapped around him so trustingly… Always made it easy to succumb to the rather vulnerable state of regeneration. He gave a small sigh before his own consciousness slipped into the vampire equivalent of sleep.

They awoke bright and early the next morning. Geralt felt more rested and refreshed than he had in ages, and he woke Regis from his regeneration with a solid kiss planted straight on the vampire’s lips startling him some.

“Good morning,” Geralt grinned once the vampire had blinked awake properly.

“My, and what a greeting to start of the day,” the other quipped, an amused look on his face.

“Mhm, hopefully a prequel to what will happen later today,” the witcher winked before getting up and out of bed. 

“This classifies as teasing, Geralt, cruel teasing,” the vampire groaned as he followed suite and left the bed.

“What did you say the other day? Some teasing and tantalizing only makes it better?” he grinned at the other again.

“Ah, revenge I get it now,” Regis snorted but let Geralt press a sweet kiss to his cheek. 

“It’ll reward us both later,” he promised and matched Regis’ smile. 

 

They spent the day in and around Dillingen, collecting all manners of herbs and other alchemical ingredients. The afternoon was spent preparing said ingredients and mixing them up into paste and tonics Regis would hand out once done fermenting. Back at the inn after a day filled with work they opted for just a small meal before retiring early to the protests of the locals who wished to speak more with their visiting healer. It couldn’t be helped though, the pair had other plans for the night.

They met in a heated embrace once behind locked doors and snuffed light. Undressing one another with patience, yet anticipation for something they could never tire of. Touches set skin aflame as fingers wandered. Wet kisses drowned and muffled sounds of pleasure and glee at being joined so closely again, in soft, citrus smelling sheets. 

In the end they spent closer to a week in Dillingen, days filled with simple yet satisfying work, meeting the locals, eating Otto’s exquisite food, and making love at night in a dark and warmed room at the Rum and Spice.  
It had to end eventually of course, they both knew, they were trying to get to Kaer Morhen after all. But both thought it a brilliant idea to come back sometime, hopefully sooner rather than later. They traveled on till they met the river Ribbon that they would follow up into the outskirts of Brokilon. The trek through the forest took double what it should have, even at their leisurely pace. Perhaps due to force of habit or just the sheer joy they both got from travelling with one another, they stopped often to harvest herbs and other ingredients that could be used for this or that. Regis even weaved him a colorful flower crown, and he giggled like a child when he placed it upon Geralt’s head. 

The witcher had just shook his head and smiled at the silly behavior, but he had refused to take it off later so who was the silliest could probably be debated.  
They were nearing the town of Dorian when the simply happened upon a village where angry roars of a man distracted and puzzled them enough to actually steer their horses into the village paths instead of avoiding them.

“I asked for four sacks from each household, four! And here you present me with barely two?” a man dressed in fine velvet yelled at the gathered group of peasants. 

“You cannae fool us, we knows the lord only demand two, yer trying to trick us!” someone in the crowd piped up and the yelling man’s eyes narrowed into slits. 

“How dare you, you inbred ingrate! The grain is to sustain those who actually look after you in this miserable countryside!” the nobleman bellowed. 

“We have no troubles but youse here!” another voice raised up and the villagers gave murmured agreements to this. 

“Oh really, then we shall certainly see what happens once I order the men to not set foot near your little shithole,” the man glowered.

“And what? Send them in rags to attack these folk instead, please how obvious can you get?” Geralt interrupted the ongoing argument, having hopped down from Roach and approached with Regis close behind. All eyes turned to him.

“Who in the blazes are you? Piss off, this doesn’t concern you!” the man pointed.

“Geralt of Rivia, and monsters concern me. Even those born as human but was given a title and morphed into shit sticks like you,” he ground back to the hidden amusement of the villagers.

“I beg your pardon!” the nobleman huffed angrily. 

“You are preying on people who are recovering from a brutal war, the time for callous opportunism is long past. You  
should leave,” Regis intervened before the witcher could insult the man further. 

“Both of you are interfering with business of state, I won’t stand for these insults!” the nobleman only continued to rant.

“Ugh, noisy,” Geralt growled.

“Now, no need to reach for your sword. There are other ways to deal with bothersome mouths,” Regis stayed his hand and instead walked up to the man, one hand clenched beside him.

“Something more to say have you, sir?!” the man practically spat in the vampire’s face. Regis gave an eerie smile that obviously made the man uncomfortable all of a sudden. 

“You can obviously stand to be a little more quiet, I recommend this,” he gave no other warning before he blew a powder from his palm and into the man’s face. 

The man sputtered and coughed before glaring dangerously at Regis, he was about to open his mouth and likely cuss the healer out… But all that came out was a high pitched hiccup. 

“There now that is better, I also recommend plenty rest and fluid. Nonalcoholic of course. I am sure your liver is already begging for its life within you,” He said pleasantly before nodding a goodbye and turning back to Geralt who did his damndest to hide the growing grin on his face. He cleared his throat.

“I suggest you deliver the promised sacks to your lord and squeal on this greedy bugger. Say he was punished by a respectable healer from Dillingen for his acts of greed and threats of violence,” the witcher told the villagers before waving away their thanks and walking back to the horses with Regis.

“The hell was that you blew into his face?”

“Heh, it’s meant to be mixed with a tonic to make you empty your stomach quickly and safely, if blown into a face dry though it only creates mild cramps resulting in hiccups. It will likely last a day or so if he follows my instructions to drink.” The vampire nodded sagely as he got onto the horse.

“A day or two he says, ever casual as if the man won’t think he has been severely cursed,” the witcher laughed. 

“Hah, know that I love all sides of you Regis, especially this mischievous one you try to keep hidden.”  
The other man simply ducked his head in mock shame and chuckled. 

 

As they progressed the very air soon filled with the murky scent of still water, they wear nearing the marsh land of Velen. They would cut through the former no-man’s land and go up to Novigrad to visit Dandelion and Zoltan. The southern part of Velen still carried deep scars after the war, the spot where the Nilfgaard army had their main camp still appeared as a barren spot among the wetlands and hills. It would probably take a year or so more before greenery recaptured the area for itself. At least there seemed to be less bodies swinging from trees and poles this time around, and the air wasn’t over ripened with the intense stench of blood.

“It was pretty intense few years back,” he commented to Regis after regaling him with the horror show that had been Velen during the war. 

“Hm, that I can believe. But in fact, I always thought Velen carried a faint blood stench before as well.” The vampire sniffed the air. “Seems less intense now though, I wonder why?”

Geralt shrugged “But it doesn’t bother you?” 

“Never did, even before when the scent was more insistent. It was… how to explain…. Wrong? It smelled perverted, corrupted if that makes any sense?” Regis mused.

“Sure, lot of weird customs and monsters in Velen, might be it,” Geralt commented.

“Possibly, tell you the truth I never lingered in Velen long. The ravens here are silent and difficult, and you always feel as if something is staring at you, observing you.” The other man surprised a shudder.

“I know all too well what you mean, and I think I know what caused it too,” Geralt muttered darkly.

“Please indulge me?”

“The Crones, bit more alive and tangible than what those outside Velen would have you believe. They were the true rulers of Velen, helping the people in a roundabout way but demanding sacrifices, ears, children and other things. I ran into them when I was looking for Ciri, the Crones almost managed to put their teeth in her,” the witcher’s eyes darkened a little at the memory.

“Sounds… like rather unpleasant ladies, but you are speaking of them in past tense. I take it they were dealt with?” Regis tilted his head slightly in question.

“Yeah, I went to them together with Ciri after the Hunt attacked Kaer Morhen. Ciri took care of them, I took care of Imlerith, one of the hunt’s generals. According to Ciri, one of the Crones escaped. We searched Velen for a time after the hunt was defeated, couldn’t find any trace of her,” Geralt summarized for the other.

“Well, I must say you did a good job, it isn’t feeling half as unsettling as it used to,” Regis attempted to lighten the witcher’s mood, and Geralt smiled.

“We’re only at the outskirts yet, Regis,” he pointed out.

“You doubting my finely tuned senses, Geralt?” the vampire sniffed mock indignantly and Geralt could help the laughter that pressed forth out of him.

“Of course not, my dear vampire,” he smiled and did his best to do a proper bow while on horseback. 

They hadn’t gotten very far into Velen when signs of disquiet and need showed themselves. The very land looked blackened and lifeless, more so than usual. There were no birds singing, or even ravens cawing as they passed under wilting trees. The disturbing scent of wrong blood might be fainter, but whispers of something dark in the marshlands had increased tenfold since Geralt had been there last. The witcher didn’t like this at all.

Passing by Benek more or less confirmed his gut feeling to be a right one once again. The people were sickened and starving, famine had struck them and sickness whispered to come from the marshes plagued the people. There were mothers crying for their lost children, and people of all ages who posted notices about missing family and friends. It seemed nature itself took offense at the people trying to get by in Velen, now that the war had passed and the dead were buried. 

The elderly bemoaned loudly how this was the fault of the warriors who had slaughtered the dear ladies of the woods. Without them the very land turned against them, the good people would likely not survive this.

“This is bollocks, the land should be teeming with life now that the crones are gone,” Geralt ground out as they rode on. He had insisted they go deeper into Velen instead of skirting it as much as possible as the original plan had been. 

“Well, it is certainly strange. The disease, a thing between a common sickness and a plague, could stem from the likely plethora of corpses rotting in and around the marshland, but I have never seen its likeness in all my years.” The vampire stroked his chin as his mind turned. 

“Hygiene counts as well right? Many water sources are likely polluted, and many of these places don’t wash too often anyways…”

“You’re absolutely right, Geralt. Try telling them that though, and most of them won’t believe you and think it to be too much of a hassle anyway when they will be rank and dirty the next day,” Regis sighed and shook his head.

“Fine so, possible explanation for that, harder to explain all the missing people though…” He glanced to the swamps as they passed them, on their way to Downwarren. 

“I’m sensing you want to investigate?” the vampire looked over to him, but the witcher’s gaze was set dead ahead, jaw tight.

“Damn straight I do, I won’t let people blame me and Ciri for this. What if they recognize her if she passes through? They’d do something stupid, desperate people always do,” the witcher snorted and suddenly turned his horse towards the bog.

“Geralt?” Regis halted.

“I want to check something, it’s further in the bog, the place the crones resided. Rule it out,” Geralt called back and Regis had to agree with the sound argument and steered his steed to follow. 

As they got deeper into the bog, Regis started to feel… odd. As if there was a pressure between his eyes. The marshland around him spewed heavy gasses though, he knew those could affect even him, so he shrugged it off and followed Geralt to a clearing with what appeared as a small village. 

Geralt swung his leg over Roach and landed gracefully on dry ground, looking around with narrowed eyes, senses likely sharpened. Regis watched him march over to the low roofed house and kick the door open. He was about to follow his witcher when his legs felt like they would give out under him and he had to lean against his horse. His head felt like it had been stuffed with cotton and as if someone had dulled his senses. He tried shaking his head, but a wave of unusual dizziness rushed over him. It felt close to what he had gone through in the later stages of his regeneration with Dettlaff. 

“Regis?” Geralt was suddenly by his side, Regis hadn’t even heard him approach.

“Strange as it may sound I actually feel a little faint,” he attempted a chuckle.

“Faint? Regis, you’re not supposed to feel faint are you?” worry had the witcher step closer to him as he asked, hand coming to his elbow helping him stand up properly.

“Ah, I said I wasn’t fully regenerated. The week in Dillingen was nice, but I’ve not well… slept much at this trip all in all that is. Perhaps my body has started to depend on the pattern? Now don’t fret so much, I shall be fine. Did you see anything?” he shifted the topic to the matter at hand.

“Yeah,” Geralt’s face visibly darkened, “I see activity. None would dear just up and start using this place,” he told his companion, frown marring his features.

“You should check the other buildings, I will keep watch,” the vampire pointed to the taller building and arched a brow at Geralt as he lingered by his side a moment more than necessary. “Really Geralt I shan’t suddenly fall over and hit my head or something equally ridiculous,” he huffed.

Geralt finally left Regis side, but he glanced back at him to make sure the man was still standing before he kicked the other door down. This was the tapestry room and it was filled with numerous stenches that offended his nose greatly. A kettle stood bubbling at the center of the room, filling the air with a pungent aroma that mixed with the too familiar scent of blood and burning flesh.

The witcher’s blood went cold as he looked at the altar and spotted tiny skulls, stripped of all their flesh, boiled clean. A swift kick to the cauldron sent it down to the floor, its sickly red contents spilling onto the dirt floor. It continued to bubble as it spread out in a dark, slimy puddle. He grabbed one of the torches that hung on the wall, giving the room its sparse lighting. He began sticking the burning torch into dried wood and hanging herbs, setting the room ablaze easily.

Regis’ head snapped back to the house Geralt had vanished into as he smelled smoke and flame, and he was halfway over to the already smoking house when Geralt emerged. 

“What’s going on, what happened?” he stopped in front of the witcher, look of bewilderment on his features.

“I am burning this place down, the Crone has been here working on something. I found skulls, Regis.” The witcher looked away after stopping in front of him. “Belonging to children,” he added darkly.

The vampire’s face hardened and he held out his hand for the torch Geralt still held onto. He surrendered it willingly before turning back to the buildings, casting igni, while Regis went to the other building to set it aflame.  
The entire hamlet was blazing brightly when they turned their backs to it and led their horses out of the mire, the scent of smoke spreading quickly on the wind. But they were confident none should come and put the blaze out. The wet ground around the place would ensure the flames did not stray too far anyway.

“You think this will stop what the last Crone was doing?” Regis wondered aloud as their feet found stable, drier land once more.

“Hopefully, but also doubtful. Couldn’t let that continue though, whatever it was. We have certainly slowed her down, she would have to start all over again. This will force her out of hiding at least, we shall have to be vigilant, I would like to avoid further kidnappings… “The witcher trailed off for a moment. “But enough of that though, how are you feeling?” Geralt looked over at his lover again, worry clear in his cat-like eyes. 

“I feel weariness, suppose you could call say I am feeling tired however oddly that might sound for a vampire,” he chuckled without much mirth, the pressure between his eyes refused to let up. 

“Not odd, and I know a place where we can seek shelter and be alone. Come on,” He got onto Roach and watched till Regis was safely planted in his own saddle. 

He led Regis to the Reardon Manor where Dolores Reardon hopefully still lived, and hopefully remembered the witcher who had helped her get her manor back for free. The place had obviously ben worked on since he saw it last, the garden was even well tended. He made sure Regis was balanced in his saddle before wandering over to the main house and knocking on the door. Three forceful raps.  
He heard shuffling inside before the door opened carefully, an aging face peering out at him.

“Master witcher!” Dolores gasped and opened the door fully once she recognized him.

“Lady Reardon,” he nodded “I apologize for troubling you at this darkening hour, but I wished to ask if you have room in your barn for my companion and I.”  
The woman craned her neck to get a look at Regis who sat hunched over his horse’s mane. “Oh dear, of course. But wouldn’t you rather come inside?”

“Thank you for the consideration, but the barn will do fine. My friend isn’t feeling quite well, but all he needs is some peace and quiet.” He bowed lightly in thanks to her.

“Well, let me fetch you some old mattresses at least! I will bring them by shortly!” She ushered back inside.

 

The climbed up to the loft in the barn where Geralt uses the mattresses handed to them by Dolores, and their blankets and saddle coverings to make a pretty cozy resting spot for them. Regis laid down and sighed, it felt like heaven to be able to rest his head for a moment and he closed his eyes, feeling the pressure abate some.

“You sure you’re going to be fine?” his witcher asked quietly.

“Quite, I feel better from just lying down. I apologize for burdening you however,” he opened his eyes and looked up at the white haired man who frowned back down at him. 

“Never a burden, Regis, don’t you even dare mention something like that again.” Geralt crouched next to him and took his hand gently in his own. “Just regain your strength, focus on that,” he ordered and brought the vampire’s hand up his lips and kissed it briefly. 

Regis smiled and let his hand rest against Geralt’s cheek for a moment. “I will be fine, truly, but your concern is very touching, I’m feeling warmed to the toes now,” he chuckled, not taking his eyes off the witcher.

“Well, you are joking which is always a good sign.” He dared to smile at the vampire. 

Regis just chuckled again and let his hand fall back on top of his chest. “I’ll be a lot better come the morning, I am certain.”

“Then rest, I will be close by,” Geralt said with his slight smile in place, leaning down and kissing the other’s brow.

 

Regis looked almost to be sleeping peacefully, a long habit of imitating breathing had his chest rising and falling gently. Though at a much slower pace than what was normal, it still brought Geralt an odd sense of comfort to see it even if he knew vampires didn’t need air at all to survive. He continued to keep watch over the vampire, occasionally glancing outside and smelling the approaching rain on the breeze. Clouds had gathered if the lack of stars were anything to go by. 

He had started to prepare for some sleep when a pained groan startled him. He spun around to see Regis curling in on himself, his whole body shaking as if the vampire was in great pain. 

“Regis…!” He shuffled over to the vampire’s side, putting his hand on his shoulder and trying to get the other man to wake.  
He was on his back before he knew what had happened, and above him was a snarling vampire. Regis had changed into his more monstrous form, his eyes pools of black and sharp fangs bared in a sneer against the witcher.

“Regis, snap out of it! What’s gotten into you?” Geralt yelled at him, struggling against the clawed hold that had him in an iron grip from which he could not escape. He could try a sign, but he had no wish to hurt Regis in any way, even if the vampire could regenerate easily so long he didn’t harm him too badly. No, he refused.

He went limp in Regis’ hold, stopped struggling against him and met the darkened gaze. Even though they were all dark, there was something wrong, as if they were clouded over? The vampire snarled again, animalistic and out of control. This wasn’t Regis, this was something else. 

“Regis-“ the witcher tried again, but was halted by the vampire snapping its head down and a sharp pain erupting from his neck as it sunk its fangs deep into his flesh.

He screwed his eyes shut in anticipation of the draining pain of having ones blood sucked from the very veins, but it never came. A strange whimper sounded instead, low in the vampire’s throat. He dared open one eye and saw Regis move slightly, mouth releasing his neck. The witcher moved his hands slowly, carefully touching Regis’ sides. 

“Regis…?” He tried, voice quiet and careful as the vampire whimpered again. A wetness lapped over his wounded neck, the vampire cleaning his neck and he felt the blood stoop trickling from the wound. This was a tender action, he didn’t know if Regis recognized him or not, but something told him the vampire still wasn’t himself whatever these new actions were. 

The vampire pressed his face back against Geralt’s neck and drew a deep breath. No… he was drawing in his scent the witcher realized, and it felt like vampire was nuzzling him. Geralt felt himself relax some as Regis seemed to calm down against him. The calm was short lived however as the vampire suddenly threw himself away from Geralt, writhing on the floor as if struck and in pain once more. Ominous whispers fleeted by his ear in one moment, gone the next. He would have to worry about that later, with steeled resolve he crawled over to where the vampire writhed as if prodded with red hot pokers. He howled in pain as he curled in on himself once more.

Geralt put Yrden around them, before taking hold of Regis and casting Quen. It was the best idea he could come up with for now, and by a small miracle it seemed to be working as the vampire stopped howling at least. He strained his ears to try and find the whispers again, but they had fallen silent now. He gathered Regis more firmly against himself, navigating his head so it lay gently in the witcher’s lap as he kept the magical barrier up around them. Regis was still twitching, mouth open and panting as well as showing of slight bloodied fangs.

Just as abruptly as he had changed form, he changed back and slumped heavily against Geralt’s lap. He tried shaking him, but gained no response. It seemed Regis was out cold, that didn’t mean Geralt was ready to leave the magical barrier just yet. He sat there with Regis in his lap till the blood still on Regis’ lips dried and darkened his skin. This wouldn’t do at all. He dispelled his barrier and waited for a moment, when nothing happened he moved Regis back to their bedrolls. He waited another moment, and when Regis stayed still he hurried downstairs with some clean cloth. He drenched it in water before going back up to his fainted vampire, and cleaned his face as best he could. With any luck, Regis wouldn’t remember the events properly…If he did Geralt knew it would bother the man greatly.

He didn’t lay down to rest that night, he stayed vigilant by Regis side, watching for signs of… whatever it was that had happened, it reminded him a lot of possession which in turn turned his mind onto what had transpired the day before at the little village in the bog. He needed to go back there, see what had transpired.

When morning came and Regis was still quiet and unmoving, he cast another long lasting Yrden around the vampire before bending down pressing his lips against his forehead. He took great comfort in feeling the warmth Regis still possessed, else he might have feared he had perished. He could not in good conscience leave Regis behind without informing the madam somewhat of what had transpired during the night. He could only hope she would still feel grateful for all of his help still and not toss them out.

He spoke to her in quiet tones, informed Dolores that the surviving Crone of Crookback Bog had enchanted Regis, that he had had a fit last night. He had since been calm, and Geralt wondered if he could stay where he was while he rode back to Crookback Bog to investigate and perhaps find a way to lift the enchantment. The madam had agreed readily, although she shuddered at the mention of Crookback Bog, but wished him luck and to return soon. 

He rode at a punishing pace away from the manor towards Crookback bog, the further he got the more convinced he was that the crone was somehow behind the torment of Regis. Reaching the bog downright confirmed his feelings, for where there should only be ashes rose a wooden building Geralt was sure he had seen burn yesterday. He got off of Roach, drawing his silver sword as he walked into the clearing.

 _“Rude you are, white one, burning down the homes of respectable folk,”_ a hissing voice whispered to him, surrounding him and making it impossible to discern where it really came from. 

“You don’t possess a respectable bone in your whole body, why don’t you show yourself?” he growled instead, and his request was quickly granted as the youngest of the crones materialized from a whiff of smoke in front of him. 

The flies in and around her eye hummed angrily, signaling the crone’s mood no doubt. The witcher kept his sword at the ready, defensive stance ready. 

“You were supposed to become a vampire’s meal, he was to come here and deliver his meal to me, for your blood would have suited my purpose nicely. But that vampire was more a loyal pet of yours than I anticipated, he proved too attached I see… But no matter, I shall draw your blood myself, white one,” Weavess tilted her head at him, a nasty sneer around her mouth.

“Witcher blood isn’t very good for you,” Geralt countered, his tone dry.

“Perhaps not, but it is good for luring children with elder blood yes? I shall feed my sisters and they will rise up again and rejoin me here in our land.” She waved her hand at him, fog surrounded the clearing as the crone called for the support of the creatures of the bog. 

“Go ahead, Crone, try it,” He narrowed his eyes and raised his sword to attack. 

The fight was vicious, all manners of beasts from the bog arrived to the Crone’s aid. Before they could get too close the witcher engaged with the Crone, meeting her arms and fingers hard as if they were clad in the finest steel. Weavess was quick and ruthless, putting Geralt on the defensive with her onslaught of attacks. Her first mistake was to try and side step him, leaving her middle open for a harsh slash of the silver that shone with master runes in Geralt’s hand. She let out a howl and disappeared as a flock of fowl to the middle of the clearing.

The beasts from the bog descended on Geralt before he could follow the Crone’s path. A drowner appeared to his side and managed to slash him painfully, the sting of its claws finding thinner points of his armor and reaching skin. He was forced to ducked away from the next blow , but it gave him the opportunity to thrust his silver sword through it. He did a harsh pull upwards and cleaving the monster in two. The creature splattered to the ground, its darkened blood staining the soil.

The witcher did one spin to the right, then a dive to get a good slash in at a water hag that rushed towards him, before rolling to the side to get within reach of Weavess again. She shrieked as she tried to slash him with iron clawed hands, he stepped once to the side and blocked her with the sword before sending a shot of igni her way. The crone screamed in anger and vanished away in a puff of smoke to the other side of the clearing. 

The witcher narrowed his eyes and went into a sprint, cutting down drowners and hags that appeared in his way. The sun shone dimly down on the bog, the still air filled with the stench of monster blood and dark magic. Weavess gave a twitch of discomfort at the witcher’s ferociousness. She made to change into ravens, but glowing glyphs appeared around her, trapping her magical ability and effectively grounding her. 

“You think you can run away again? Not likely crone,” Geralt growled as he sliced through another drowner, making its head depart from its shoulders and spared no time to watch it tumble to the ground. 

“You caused someone dear to me a lot of pain last night, unforgivable by itself. But, now you have the gall to tell me you wish to hurt someone else important in my life. I’m telling you Crone,” He sneered as he dodged a water hag flinging mud at him to attempt to blind the witcher and hindering his progression towards the crone. Her attempt failed as Geralt got to his feet again, sword raised against the hag. 

“It’s the last mistake you will ever make,” he swung his sword violently as he shouted at the old Crone, the hag’s upper body falling off the legs before collapsing completely. 

Realizing her grievous mistake Weavess turned to her last option to flee, run. The fog around the clearing cleared up as the last Lady of the Wood ran for her life, away from the angered witcher. Geralt lifted his sword over his head and used momentum to throw the silver sword through the air, aimed directly at Weavess’ back. The silver gleamed in the weak sunlight in the bog, slicing through air and finally embedding itself into the Crone who cried out as she stumbled and fell to the ground. By the time she had started crawling away, the witcher reached her. He yanked his sword out of her back and did not hesitate even one moment before he drove his sword down onto her neck. 

The wet, crackling sound of a sword going through flesh and sound seemed to near echo throughout the bog as Geralt separated the Crone’s head from her body. The remaining creatures scurried off in all directions, likely to hide in the bog as the one holding their leash was no more. An eerie quiet descended over the bog, before whispers flitted through the air. 

_“We’re free, we’re finally free,”_ Children’s voices.

 _“Thank you, thank you,”_ old and young, whispering by his ear as the bog filled with an overwhelming presence of those the Crones had demanded ultimate sacrifice of throughout the years, of those they had slaughtered and made into soup. 

Children’s laughter and song snuck around the trees, filling the bog with a flicker of all the life that had once ended there.  
_“Eeper Weeper, old grounds keeper,_  
Had a wife but couldn't keep her.  
Had another, she was not the same,  
Set the cradles all aflame.”

The rhyme stood out to him, and made the hair on the back of his neck stand for some reason. He took a last glance around the bog before turning on his heel and leaving this god forsaken place. To his side lights like fireflies gathered around the remaining building, putting it ablaze anew and this time the witcher knew the ash heap would be permanent. He walked away from the clearing, found a skittish Roach and led her out of the bog, he didn’t dare sit astride her now in her nervous state. He sincerely hoped would be the last he would have to see of this blasted marshland. He increased his pace as behind him children’s laughter followed him before vanishing among the trees. 

Regis woke with an abruptly, a startled gasp sounding by his side. His head whipped around before his eyes landed on Lady Reardon who was seated on a low chair, and had been startled from her knitting project from the looks of it.

“Oh you’re awake, that’s a relief then. I am sure the master witcher will be happy to see that once he returns,” she schooled her startled expression into a friendly one.

“He’s away?” Regis sat up slowly, he felt odd. But a different kind of odd from what he had felt yesterday. 

“He claimed those horrid Crones of legend from Crookback bog had managed to enchant you, and he went to investigate it. If anyone can deal with those horrors it would be a witcher, right?” she smiled at him. 

Regis gave her a noncommittal hum as a reply, looking out into the barn and feeling as if he was missing something important. Enchanted the madam had said, to just sleep? Or had something- he froze, and his eyes widened. In his mouth he could taste the traces of blood. He couldn’t determine from what or from who, but it made his entire being feel cold. What had happened last night, had he hurt anyone? He struggled to remember.

“Are you alright?” the Lady Reardon lent forward to touch his arm, but Regis stood abruptly. 

“I need to find Geralt, thank you for looking after me Lady Reardon.” He did a quick bow before leaving the barn. He had just gone through the door when he very nearly crashed into the witcher. Geralt looked battle worn, but smiled as he saw his vampire awake and apparently his old self again.

“Geralt-“ Regis began, throat thick with fear of what had happened, but they were interrupted by the lady who had followed Regis out.

“Oh, master witcher you are back. Did you managed to find out what was going on? Was it those horrid legends?” she asked, hands gathering in front of her skirt.

“Seems like, but I managed to deal with it. Hopefully the supernatural will at least leave Velen alone now,” the witcher nodded as he replied.

“Well those are good news indeed! But you should be paid for this-“

“There is no need, this was as much for myself as for anyone else really. I thank you for your hospitability Lady Reardon, but if my companion here is feeling up for it we really should be on our way.” He looked to Regis who could only give a quiet nod.

The Lady Reardon saw them off shortly after, waving as they walked with their horses from her estate. Geralt made to get onto Roach, but Regis halted him.

“Geralt, what happened last night after I fell into regeneration?” he asked, voice gravely.

“You fell into a sleep you didn’t wake from, Regis. I suspected the crone, my hunch was right. She was waiting for me in the bog. We fought, and finally the Crones of Crookback bog are no more. I’m mostly glad that dispatching her seemed to lift whatever she did to you as well,” his witcher smiled to him, and although his words flew freely from his lips, Regis sensed the lack of full truth.

“Geralt, why are you lying to me? I can taste blood in my mouth, it lingers like the stench of death. What happened last night? Why can’t I remember?” he was growing frustrated, he knew Geralt was hiding something from him by this point, and the vampire didn’t like it one bit.

“Regis, nothing happened. Please can we just continue north and leave this forsaken hell hole behind? Should have gone through Vengerberg,” the witcher sighed and shook his head, but it sounded more like he was reprimanding himself than anything else. He knew Regis wouldn’t let this go.

When Regis didn’t reply immediately, Geralt lifted his head to look at him. The man had narrowed his eyes at him, and before Geralt could say anything else the vampire surged forward and tugged the neckline of his light armor down. The wound from the bite glared an angry red back at the vampire, it was so clearly a vampire bite it couldn’t have been mistaken for anything else. He stumbled back away from Geralt as if he had been struck, staring at the red mark that still peeked out only just from the witcher’s pulled down collar. He had done that, he just knew those were his teeth marks on Geralt’s neck. Regis looked up and met the concerned eyes of the witcher, his own features mirroring the horror he felt within.

“Regis, it’s fine you didn’t-“

“Fine? Fine, Geralt?! I bit you!” he cried out as he found his voice again.

“But you weren’t-“ the witcher tried again, taking a step towards him and causing Regis to instantly take a step back.

“I bit you, and I cannot remember. Geralt, I could have killed you!” clear distress bled through the vampire’s words and he felt his eyes dampen. 

“But you didn’t Regis!” Geralt tried to approach again, but Regis wouldn’t have it.

“No,” he simply whispered before dissolving into thick, dark fog and vanishing among the trees.

“Regis!”

**Author's Note:**

> I had so many plans for the sequel I had to split it into parts! The next part shall have chapters, not decided about what to do with part 3 but will probably be chapters as well!  
> I hope you enjoyed this piece!
> 
> And a huge thanks to Seherrons for lots of encouragement and aid when I got stuck haha, and another huge thank you to unicorncupcakez who took the time to read it over before I posted and assured me it wasn't utter drivel ^^;


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